A/N: Hey! Long time no see. Actually, I'm proud to say that it hasn't been that long... heh heh heh. The last update of mine was in... March? On this story. It's only been a couple of couple of months. ;P

Aaaannnnyyyyways, Silverhair's name has still not been revealed... and it won't be revealed until Kagome learns it. Ah, I've said that before, haven't I? That decision of mine might change... but I don't think it will.

And hey! We run into Doctor Kagura Osakoi this chapter. (What a weird last name.) It's a tad bit longer than the previous chapters, and I was going to continue it, but then I decided I had a good place to end the chapter. Also, dinner was ready. Ooh, and this chapter also has a little bit of insight into Silverhair's character. I hope you enjoy it!

The Faint Hearted – IV

By ancient-relic

-::-

"Silverhair?"

Bright eyes stared at him, slightly fogged with sleep. Her tousled hair paired with her slightly flushed cheeks made her look like she had jus dashed up a flight of stairs.

"What are you doing here?"

He ignored her question in favour of putting together the puzzle pieces in his mind. She was in the terminally ill ward? When he had seen her last- and yes, he did remember- she had simply appeared to be healthy and likely due for release.

"Why are you here?" the question was out of his mouth before he had a chance to stop it.

She recoiled from him, sinking back into her pillows. A frown marred her face for a moment before it was hidden by her hair as she turned away.

"Get out." She said suddenly. "I don't know what you're doing here, and I don't care. Leave."

When he made no move towards the door, she turned back to him, eyes bright and furious. She tossed her blankets aside and he watched her delicate white legs lower her delicate frame to the floor. Wheeling her IV behind her, she marched right up to him so they were standing chest-to-chest, tilted her head almost straight up and gave him a pointed jab to the shoulder. He was at least a good foot and a half taller than she was, but the power of her poke was surprising. She was certainly riddled with oxy-morons. Healthy looking, but terminally ill... tiny and delicate yet deceivingly strong...?

"I – said – leave!" she emphasized each word with another poke.

"You're poking me in the wrong direction," he pointed out suddenly, again surprising himself. He didn't want to leave.

"Oooh!" the girl growled, swinging behind him before he had a chance to react. She shoved him towards the door without notice, and he remembered him motor functions in time to save himself from falling over. Slowly he was ushered towards the door with her insistent, forceful pushes. At the door, he turned to her to say a thought he hadn't completed in his mind.

Something like... "Why are you her-

But as his eyes alighted on her form, his voice failed. She was bent over with her eyes squeezed shut, her hand fisted in her sleeping shirt in the center of her chest. Suddenly, her body seemed to fall limp like its strings had been cut and she pitched forwards towards the floor, her mass of hair fluttering around her weakly. Spurred into motion, he threw himself to the ground so as to cushion her fall. She landed at an awkward angle against him, her temple pressed against his cheek. He was stunned for a moment after the impact, blinking away stars. The stinging across his cheekbone told him he would likely be adding a black eye to his list of injuries.

Righting her IV, which was hanging balanced rather precariously on two wheels against a small side table, he let out a tense breath. Her neck was pressed against his skin where the collar of his shirt had been pushed aside in his valiant attempt to save her from the cold tile, and he stiffened when he realized that he couldn't feel a pulse. Panicking, he cradled her head in one hand and pressed the other to her neck, searching for some sign of a pulse only to come away empty. Hoisting her up as best as he could from the strange angle they had fallen at, he shouted and hoped someone was close enough to hear.

"Help! Someone come quickly!"

And sure enough, he heard the clipped tone of heels fast approaching their location. A woman who looked much too beautiful to be a doctor strode into the room, her white lab coat open and swirling around her form. Taking one glance down at his struggles to rise with the girl's dead weight in his hands, she promptly spun on her toe and pressed a series of buttons on the intercom by the door, which sent a sharp, high-pitched beep to the other end of the device.

Moving to his side, she helped hoist the girl off him, and they placed her on the bed. Turning her brilliant scarlet eyes onto him, a voice that didn't suit her visage came tumbling out.

"Get out right now."

A familiar voice came from down the hall- "Dr. Osakoi, what's going on?"

"Boy," the woman, Dr. Osakoi, seemed to glare at him without even narrowing her eyes. "We need space. Get out of the way- get out of the room."

Her tone of voice left no room for argument; though she didn't sound angry, she sounded like she meant business. It was the kind of tone that insinuated that whatever threat got dished out would likely come true. He shuffled backwards out of the room, his eyes resting a moment on the little girl lying unconscious on the bed.

"Miroku, we've got to prep the defribulator, stat." Osakoi called, as the dark haired doctor from earlier rushed in past him without a glance and headed to the girl's side.

"Oh, Kagome," the man murmured soothingly. "Please be okay, and don't give up on us yet."

"Miroku, charging,"

"Give me a second, Kagura."

"Son," a softer voice startled him from the events he was witnessing, and a hand on his shoulder turned him around. A lady with a wise eye- an eye patch, how archaic, (because his sarcasm never failed him, even in his head)- and a head full of long greyed hair looked him over. "You need some help yourself. Come with me, and we'll get you patched up."

He was then aware of the throb in his face and the sting in his abdomen, and he looked down to see blood seeping through his shirt. He'd likely ripped his still healing cuts when he dove for the girl, but shook it off. Shallow skin wounds were nothing next to some kind of head injury, and though he didn't know the girl- he made a mental note to call her by her name, Kagome, at least in his thoughts- he decided he wouldn't wish head trauma or brain injury on her.

Actually, now that he thought about it, he was kind of excited to talk to her again. And the next time, perhaps she wouldn't kick him out of the room...? And he could learn something more about her.

Kagome...

-::-

"Nice shiner, douche-bag." His brother greeted, looking up from his game as he strode purposefully past.

"Been reading the dictionary lately, half-wit?" he countered. "I didn't know you knew how to read."

"Kiss my ass," his half-brother replied, turning back to his game. "At least I'm not the one who gets beat up and then has to complete community service!"

Something snapped inside him then, and he turned, a cold rage ripping through his body. He strode purposefully to his brother's game console, and with one fluid motion ripped it up off the shelf and threw it at the wall. The console left a good sized dent and satisfyingly crackled and popped before it released several puffs of white smoke from its new location on the floor. Stalking to where his brother was sitting wordlessly on the couch, he swung his right fist back and socked the shocked look right off his face.

"There." He snarled, turning away and heading for his room. "Now we match."

After stalking to his room he slammed his door by kicking it closed, and ripped off his blood-stained shirt. The bus ride home- yes, he had taken the bus- how disgusting, had been interesting to say the least; the general public had seemed both awed by his presence and terrified by his bloody shirt and ruffled appearance. Tossing it in the general direction of his laundry bin, he stalked into his master bathroom and flipped on the lights.

In the mirror his fresh stitches were surrounded by angry red flesh. Poking experimentally with his tapered fingers, he realized morbidly that his old tattoos on his wrist matched his newest injuries. Luckily he typically healed without scarring; but just his luck these would scar.

Great.

Now his mood was really shot. Glancing at his other side, he followed the odd-patterned bruising up to his shoulder. A strange mark had formed: it was fading, and the only reason he could see it was because it was still pink against his pale flesh. It was rounded, almost perfectly circular and...

...and it was where the gi- Kagome- had poked him. Studying the fading mark for a moment longer, he turned to the shower and set the hot water to run. Maybe a soothing shower would soothe his temper. It was then that it occurred to him that his temper had calmed down at the thought of the unconscious girl in the hospital, and instead of anger he was filled with curiosity and something that seemed suspiciously like worry.

When had he ever been worried about someone's health? Not since his mother-

And the anger is back.

After his shower, he decided he'd go find his brother again and see what he could do about rectifying his mis-matched black eyes.

tbc.

EDITED: 04/25/10